Introduction
Charles Dickens offers an interesting reading. But the thick volume and archaic language dissuade any reader. Once these bottlenecks are overcome dramatic moments of Shakespearean dimensions are availed. Enough retold versions are available, but after shearing here and there, they look skeleton spirits, without soul, flesh and blood. Even translation to our own vernacular is not comprehensive, but sheared one.
My effort is at sustaining my interest in reading. Pulps are pleasure. But, as we progress, we find that they run a dull course and make us drowsy.
Preface
The novel was first published in 1850. In its preface, Dickens expressed his regrets in parting with his many companions. He aso expressed his pleasure in realising his long wish. He was afraid, that he was going to wear his readers with his personal confidence.
It took two years for the author to finish the work.
In the preface to 1869 edition he repeated his pleasure and regret again with added emphasis on leaving the character of David Copperfield.
I AM BORN
I was born on a Friday, at twelve o'clock in the night. When the clock struck, came my first cry. 'The boy born on Friday would bring bad luck,' said the sage women of the neighborhood. "He would see ghost and spirit," they continued. I was born with a caul. Since caul was a talisman against drowning it was put for sale through an advertisement, but there was only one bidder, a bill broking attorney, who offered two pounds and balance in sherry. The offer was declined and the advertisement was withdrawn. Sherry was not an attraction as my mother's own sherry was in the market. The caul was put up in a raffle after ten years in our part of the country to fifty members at half -a- crown a head - the winner to spend five shillings. I was present at the raffle and felt uncomfortable and confused at the way in which my part being disposed of. The raffle was won by an old lady who was unwilling to part with the stipulated five shillings. She took it reluctantly from her hand basket all in half pence and two pence and half penny short. It was immense waste of time and loss of arithmetic. She was never drowned but died in peace in her bed at ninety-two.
I was born in Blundreston, in Suffolk. Before my eyes were opened upon the light of this world, my father's eyes closed for ever. I felt great compassion when I used to see his white grave stone in the churchyard, lying alone, in the dark night, when our little parlour was warm and bright with fire and candle, and the doors of the house bolted and locked against it.
My father had an aunt, Mrs Trotwood or Miss Betsy, as my mother would call her. She married a person younger than herself. Later, when she found him a wife-beater, got a divorce, bought a house by sea and established herself with a servant. The uncle went to India. According to family legend he was seen riding on an elephant in the company of a baboon. But I think it must have been a baboo or a Begum. Within ten years came the news that he was dead.
My father had been a favourite of her. But his marriage to my mother, who as to her, was a wax doll, caused his fall. My father and Miss Betsy never met again. Never did she see my mother, who, she knew, was below twenty. He was double my mother's age when he married, but of delicate constitution. He died a year afterwards, and, as I have said, six months before I came into the world.
This was the state of matters on that eventful Friday in March. My mother was sitting by the fire, but in poor health and low spirits, looking at it through her tears, and desponding heavily about herself and the fatherless little stranger, and of the trial that was before her, when, lifting her eyes as she dried them, to the windows opposite, she saw a strange lady coming up the garden.
My mother was sure at the second glance that it was Miss Betsy. The setting sun was glowing on the strange lady, over the garden fence, and she came walking upto the door with rigid figure and composed countenance that could have belonged to nobody else. When she reached the house, she gave another proof of her identity.
My father had often hinted that she seldom conducted herself like any ordinary person; and now instead of ringing the bell, she came and looked at the identical window, pressing the end of her nose against the glass to that extend that my poor mother used to say it became perfectly flat and white in a moment.
She gave my mother such a turn, that I have always been convinced I am indebted to Miss Betsy for having been born on Friday. My mother had left her chair, and in her agitation, gone behind it in the corner. Miss Betsy, on the other side, looked round the room slowly and enquiringly. Then she made a frown and a gesture to my mother, to come and open the door. My mother went and opened the door.
'Mrs David Copperfield, I think,' said Miss Betsy'
'Yes' said my mother, faintly in her mourning weeds.
'Mrs Trotwood, you have heard of her, I dare say?'
My mother answered in the positive. 'Now you see her', said Miss Betsy. My mother bent her head and begged her to come in.
They went into the parlour, and seated. Miss Betsy was silent, and my mother began to cry.
'Oh tut,tut,tut!' said Miss Betsy, in a hurry. 'Don't do that! 'Come,come!'
My mother couldn't help not withstanding, and she continued crying till she had had her cry out. 'Take off your hat, child', ' and let me see you,' said Miss Betsy.
My mother was too much afraid of her that she took her hat nervously, and her beautiful and luxuriant hair fell about her face.
'Why, bless my heart!', exclaimed Miss Betsy.
'you are a very baby.' And she touched her hair gently. Next moment she was seen sitting, her skirt tucked up, her hands folded on one knee, and her feet on the fender.
'In the name of Heaven,' she said suddenly, 'Why Rookery?'
'Do you mean the house ma'am?', asked my mother.
'Why Rookery', said Miss Betsy, 'Cookery would have been better, if you were practical, either of you.'
'It was his choice,' returned my mother. 'When he bought the house he thought that there were rooks about it.'
The evening wind blew among the old elm trees at the bottom of the garden, and both of them glanced that way. The giant elms bent to one another, whispered secrets, and after a rest, tossed their branches suddenly, as if to throw away the old, ragged, weather-beaten rook nests which hung like wrecks upon a stormy sea.
'Where are the birds?'asked Miss Betsy
'The-?' my mother had been thinking of something else.
'The rooks- what has become of them?'
'There has not been any since we lived here. We thought- Mr Copperfield thought- it was quite a large rookery; but the nests were old one, and the birds have deserted them a long while.'
'David Copperfield all over!'cried Miss Betsy. 'David Copperfield from head to foot! Calls a house rookery when there is not a rook near it, and takes the birds on trust, because he sees the nest!'
'Mr Copperfield,' returned my mother, 'is dead, and if you dare to speak unkindly of him to me-'
My mother stood up in agitation, sat down again meekly, and fainted.
Twilight was passing to darkness, when she came to herself. They saw each other dimly by the fire.
'Well,' said Miss Betsy, 'and when do you expect-'
'I am all in tremble,' faltered my mother. 'I don't know what is the matter. I shall die, I am sure!'
'No,no,no,' said Miss Betsy. 'Have some tea.'
'Oh dear, do you think it will do me any good?' cried my mother helplessly.
'Ofcourse it will', said Miss Betsy. 'It is nothing but fancy. 'What do you call your girl?'
'I don't know that it will be a girl, yet, Ma'am,' said my mother innocently
'Bless the baby,' said Miss Betsy, unconsciously quoting the words on pincushion.
(There was a custom, in eighteenth and nineteenth century, wherein pincushion was gifted to the new born baby with the words "Bless the Baby" on it.)
Fearing this allusion she corrected herself with, 'I don't mean that, I mean your servant girl.'
'Peggotty,' said my mother.
'Peggotty!' repeated Miss Betsy, with some indignation.
'It's her surname,' said my mother faintly. Mr Copperfield called her by it, because her Christian name was same as mine.'
'Here! Peggotty!', cried Miss Betsy, opening the parlour door. ' Tea. Your mistress is a little unwell. Don't dawdle.'
With these words Miss Betsy shut the door again, and sat down as before, her feet on the fender, the skirt tucked up, and her hands folded on one knee.
'You were speaking about it being a girl,' she continued. 'I have no doubt it will be a girl. I have a presentiment that it must be a girl. Now child, from the moment of birth of this girl-'
'Perhaps boy,' my mother took the liberty of putting in.
'I tell you that I have a presentiment that it must be a girl,' returned Miss Betsy. 'Don't contradict. From the moment of this girl's birth, child, I intend to be her friend. I intend to be her godmother. And I beg you will call her Betsy Trotwood Copperfield. There must be no mistakes in life with THIS Betsy Trotwood. There must be no trifling with HER affections, poor dear. She must be well brought up, and well guarded from reposing any foolish confidences where they are not deserved. I must make that MY care.
Miss Betsy twitched her head after each of these sentences. My mother subdued and bewildered did not know what to say
'And was David good to you, child?' asked Miss Betsy after moments of silence when her twitches came to an end gradually. ' Were you comfortable together?'
'We were very happy,' said my mother. 'Mr Copperfield was only good to me.'
'What, he spoilt you, I suppose?' returned Miss Betsy
'For being quite alone and dependent on myself in this in this rough world again.'
'Well, don't cry,' said Miss Betsy. 'You were not equally matched, child- if any two people can be equally matched- and so I asked the question. You were an orphan, weren't you?'
'Yes.'
'And a governess?'
'I was a nursery governess in a family where Mr Copperfield came to visit. He was very kind to me and took a great deal of notice of me, and paid me a good deal of attention, and at last proposed to me. And I accepted him. And so we were married.'
'Ha, poor baby!' mused Miss Betsy, with a frown still bent upon the fire. 'Do you know anything?'
'I beg your pardon Ma'am,' faltered my mother.
'About keeping house, for instance.'
'Not much, I fear,' returned my mother. 'Not so much I could wish. 'But Mr Copperfield was teaching me-'
'Much he knew himself about it,' said Miss Betsy
'-And I hope I should have Improved, being very anxious to learn, and he very patient to teach me, if the great misfortune of his death-' my mother broke down again and could not get no farther.
'Well,well!' said Miss Betsy. 'Don't cry any more.'
'And I am sure we never had a word of difference, except that Mr Copperfield objected to my threes and fives being too much like each other or to my putting curly tails to my sevens and nines,' resumed my mother bursting again.
'You will make yourself ill,' said Miss Betsy, 'and you know that will not be good either for you or my god-daughter. 'Come you mustn't do it!'
My mother was quiet in spite of her increasing indisposition.
'David had bought an annuity for himself with his money, I know,' my aunt continued, 'what did he do for you?'
'Secured the reversion of part of it to me.'
'How much?'
'A hundred and five pounds a year'
Peggotty who came with candle and tea board, saw that my mother was ill, conveyed her upstairs to her own room; sent Ham Peggotty, her nephew, to fetch the doctor and nurse.
When they came they saw my aunt, sitting in the parlour, with her feet on the fender, her bonnet tied over her left arm, stopping her ears with jeweller's cotton. She was a stranger to Peggotty, my mother did not have enough time to introduce her to my aunt. The doctor, Mr Chillip was a meek man, who tried, in the intermissions of his attention to my mother, to have a rapport with my aunt, but failed in it.
Ham Peggotty saw her walking in agitation along the length and breadth of the parlour. When the birth was over, doctor Chillip came to the parlour again, said to my aunt meekly, ' Well ma'am I am happy to congratulate you.'
'What upon?' asked my aunt. Mr Chillip was fluttered by this severity, bowed to her, gave her a little smile to mollify her.
'Mercy on the man, what is he doing!' cried my aunt impatiently. 'Can't he speak?'
'Be calm, my dear Ma'am,' said Chillip softly. 'There is no reason for any uneasiness, ma'am.' 'Be calm.'
My aunt didn't shake him, but shook her head that frightened him.
'Well ma'am,' resumed Chillip, gathering his courage, 'I am happy to congratulate you. All is now over, well over.' During this short speech that took long time my aunt looked him narrowly.
'How is she?' asked my aunt folding her arms with her bonnet still tied on them.
'Well, ma'am, she'll be quite comfortable soon, I hope,' said Chillip. 'There cannot be any objection to your seeing her soon. It may do her good.'
'And SHE? How is SHE?' asked my aunt sharply.
Chillip slanted his head little more and looked at my aunt friendly.
'The baby,' said my aunt 'How is she?'
'Ma'am,' returned Chillip 'I understood you had known. It's a boy.'
My aunt never said a word afterwards, took her bonnet by strings, aimed a blow at Chillip, put it on and went out. I lay in my basket. My mother in her bed. She went out like a fairy and never came back.
___________________________________________________Note:
Based on digital copy available in Google.
Notes.
1. Miss Betsy makes her first appearance here. She comes to the story and walks out of it. She is perceived as a dread and awful character. But David sees her in another light and main reason for this different perception is Betsy caressing his mother's beautiful hair. Narrated, again and again by his mother, till Mr and Miss Murdstone intruded, and brought a schism in I am O K you are O K relationship of mother and child. Mr Murdstone is not the biological father of David. Even biological fathers may bring such situation. Miss Betsy in soft light as perceived by David becomes the chief motivator, in chapter 12, in his escape from drudgery.
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